Paces
by SetszukiLeroux
Summary: The story of Liam and the rest of the band after Charlie's disappearance.
1. Liam

**Paces**

**Summary**: Liam's thoughts during the conversation in "The Moth", before Charlie got on the plane, and after Liam learns about the plane crash.

**Author's Note**: This story was mainly written out of writers' block, but the plot interests me, so I might decide to continue it, if I get enough positive feedback, but I'd have to finish "Trust in Me" first.Otherwise, consider it a one-shot. I LOVE reviews, but I don't accept flames. Constructive criticism is fine, but flames are a no-no. You might try reading my biography for more detail on that. Okay. On to the story, and please remember to review!

Paces -

"It's all lined up, Liam," Charlie insisted, watching his brother push his three-year-old daughter on a swing in Liam's backyard. "Eight weeks on tour opening for some band called MeatCo. Next gig's in Los Angeles. LA, Liam. This is a chance to get back on a label, a real one."

Liam lifted his daughter off the swing and set her down in the sandbox, leading Charlie over to sit at the lawn table a few yards away. Charlie had just appeared that day, all of a sudden desperate to restart DriveSHAFT, their drug-led band that had fallen apart about three years ago. It was strange – Charlie hadn't even called – he had just arrived at Liam's doorstep. He wondered if Charlie really wanted to be in the band again, or if he had just run out of money, and needed a job.

"This is our chance at a comeback," continued Charlie, leaning forward slightly and looking Liam in the eye.

"Charlie," said Liam, deciding the best way to say this was to just come out with it. "I don't want to come back."

Charlie sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, right. Well, here's the thing. They won't book DriveSHAFT without you. So, I'm asking, as a brother, the way you asked me."

Liam ran his hands over his face. Charlie wasn't going to give up. He was stubborn sometimes, always had been – ever since he had been able to walk and talk, nobody could tell him what to do, except for Liam and his parents, of course. Liam thought back to when they were younger.

Charlie had been so different then. Liam had been able to talk to him about anything – Charlie always knew what to say. When Charlie had a problem, he would always come to Liam for help, but that had stopped a while after Liam started abusing drugs.

A pang of guilt shot through him as he thought about it, the first time he had ever said something that permanently effected his relationship with his brother.

"_I am DriveSHAFT! Nobody even knows who the sodding bass player is! This is it Charlie - end of the rainbow. You really think you can walk away? Then what, eh? Face it, if you're not in this band, what the bloody hell use are you?"_

He had been high at the time, and when he finally sobered up, he could hardly recall the things he had done. But for some reason, the words he had screamed at Charlie that night, and the hurt expression on his brother's face had stuck in his mind like super-glue. Charlie would hardly look at him for the next month or so, and while the rest of the band knew something was up, they had no idea what, and they had enough sense to stay out of it. Whatever it was, it was something private – something that only the two brothers would ever know about.

"You were with me the night I missed Megan's birth," said Liam, hoping that Charlie would just relent. "You were the one I was stumbling around Dresden with, trying to find a sodding fix."

Charlie looked down slightly, toying with the ring on his middle finger. Liam followed his gaze, and only then did he notice the slight twitching of his brother's hand.

"Oh, man," he said disbelievingly. "You're still using, aren't you?"

"Don't change the subject," said Charlie defensively.

Liam couldn't believe it. All this time, his baby brother had been destroying his body by using drugs, and he hadn't even noticed. After the band fell apart, and Liam got married, Karen got pregnant… Liam had realized that there was more to life than drugs and casual sex. He had just assumed Charlie had made that realization too. Sure, he had called, tried to get Charlie into some rehab program, but he had backed off after a while, and not only because it was his own choice.

"That's why you haven't been returning my calls," said Liam, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he had been too dumb to see it.

"Look," said Charlie, started to get agitated. "Are you going to go on tour with us or not?"

Liam knew he was trying to steer the conversation away from himself. He wasn't going to let it happen. "You said you were going to get some help, man," Liam accused.

"I lost your number."

"You're still a junkie," he spat harshly, desperate to get through to his brother.

Now Charlie was angry. "You did this to me!" he exclaimed. "It was about the music! The music, Liam. You took that away from me!"

Again, the pangs of guilt. "Listen, why don't you stay with us for a few weeks. Karen and me, we can get you help. Sydney's got some really good programs…"

Charlie, exasperated, stood up from the table and marched away. He could hear Liam behind him say, "Don't go."

"Thanks for your help, brother," Charlie said spitefully.

"Stay, please," Liam pleaded. He wouldn't let Charlie go off and get himself killed by overdose or something. He couldn't handle that. "I'm just looking out for you."

"You never looked out for me!" Charlie shouted. He took a breath and turned back for the house, desperate to get away from the pressure Liam was putting on him. "I have a plane to catch," he said, and then was gone.

Liam sat at the table with his head in his hands. After a moment, Karen appeared in the backyard, carrying a tray with lemonade on it.

"Where'd Charlie go?" she asked, setting the tray on the table. "I made lemonade."

"He's gone," Liam replied, his voice low and depressed.

"Liam, what's wrong?" said Karen, concern evident in her voice.

"Charlie's still using," Liam admitted after a moment.

"I thought he said he was going to get help. I take it he didn't."

"No, and I just don't understand why he's being so stubborn. I went through what he's going through. I know what it's like, what he's feeling. I quit because I found what life is about. I need him to do that too, Karen. I can't stay here while he's out there, getting high three times a day. One of these times he's going to overdose, and then it'll be too late. Can't he see that?"

"I think he knows the dangers of using drugs, Liam. He'll find something to hang on to, just like you did. He'll be fine, I know he will be. But this is a choice he needs to make on his own. You can always be there to support him, but he needs to make it through this by himself. He's strong. He's got a whole life ahead of him, and I know Heroin is not going to be his end."

Two days later, the news reached Liam and his family.

_OCEANIC FLIGHT CRASHES!_

_PLANE NOT FOUND_

_One day ago, Oceanic flight 815 took off from Sydney, Australia, bound for Los Angeles, California, USA. While the plane flew across the Pacific Ocean, an unknown accident occurred, causing the back section of the plane to be completely severed from the rest of the plane. Most of the third-class passengers were killed during the crash._

_Investigators are searching for the remains of the plane, but have so far found nothing near the estimated landing point. Insiders have said that it is possible that the plane soared, engineless, over 500 miles off-course._

_Below is the passenger list, acquired from the airport in Sydney, from which Oceanic flight 815 began it's journey._

_Acker, Joanna_

_Auden, Gregory_

_Barter, Kirsten_

_Bent, Eliza_

_Bent, Terrence_

_Burley, Howard_

_Caller, Yvette_

Liam skipped down the list, praying with everything he had that he wouldn't find his brother's name on the list.

_Locke, John_

_Marker, Steven_

_Nark, Frances_

_Pace, Charlie_

The names went onto the next page, but Liam didn't read them. The newspaper slid slowly from his hands, landing on the floor with the quiet sound of shuffling papers. He slid further down on the couch in the living room, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure Karen or Megan would wake up just because of the noise it was making.

As he felt himself going catatonic, he thought about the reality of the situation. His brother – his baby brother – had been in a plane crash, on a plane that Liam could have kept him from boarding in the first place. It was despair like Liam had never felt before. Like that old saying, _"You don't know what you've got until it's gone"_.

Charlie could have been dead, and the last time they had talked, their words had been full of anger, and Charlie had left. He had gotten on a plane, and now he might be gone forever.

As he thought that possibility over, he felt himself slipping to the side and falling onto the soft cushions of the sofa. He had never felt so helpless in his life. It was torture, knowing that his baby brother was either dead or wandering somewhere, alone, without Liam there to support him. That's what big brother's are for, after all. They keep their baby brothers safe, and Liam couldn't help feeling he had failed, and that he might not ever get the chance to make it up to Charlie, his responsibility, his brother, his best friend.


	2. Sinjin

**Paces**

**Chapter Two**

**Summary:** Sinjin learns about the plane crash.

**Author's Note**: I've never actually seen the pilot episode (I know, I'm terrible), so I don't exactly know everything about the plane crash. But, since I already made it so people know about the whole severing of the end deal, I'm gonna have to keep it that way. Thanks for reviewing, reviewers! I really appreciate your comments! No flames, please. Remember to review this chapter!

Paces -

Sinjin leaned back on the pillows of the bed in his hotel room, flipping through the channels on the TV with the remote in his hand. He hadn't done much else that day, save walking down to the vending machine a few times to get a coke. He had a job, but it was Thursday – not one of his work days.

He took a drink of his most recent coke, closing his eyes as he swallowed. He glanced over to the newspaper on the floor by the door, but didn't bother to go get it. The newspaper was a waste of time. Why read the news there when you could watch it on TV?

That thought in mind, he flipped the channel to the news. There was a man on the screen named Andrew Raymer, or so it said on the bottom of the screen.

"While no one is quite sure when or where the plane went down, the radio went out and all communications with Oceanic flight 815 were lost at about 5:00 pm, approximately 7 hours into their trip.

"Judging from what was heard on the radio right before communications were lost, investigators have come to the conclusion that the entire rear end of the plane was somehow blown away, leaving the rest of the plane with no engines.

"It is doubted that there were any survivors. If what insiders suspect is correct, third class passengers had no chance of survival, and the first and second class passengers had an extremely slim chance. The plane was going full speed at the time of the accident, and the front of the plane would have crashed nose-first into the ocean.

"Searches have been organized for the remains, but searchers do not expect to find any living people left. While the plane could have gone as much as 500 miles off course, there is no land anywhere near the estimated landing point.

"Deepest apologies and regrets are to the families of the people on board Oceanic Airlines flight 815. The story and passenger list were included in most major newspapers and can be found online at our website."

The website appeared at the bottom of the screen and Sinjin quickly wrote it down, his curiosity getting the better of him. He got up and went to his computer, hurriedly typing in the address. He scrolled down and clicked on the story of "Oceanic Disaster!", quickly finding the passenger list and skimming the list of names.

He passed the M's, the N's, the O's, but stopped at the P's. His face went numb as he stared blankly ahead at "Pace, Charlie", written clearly before him. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head before looking again, hoping his mind was playing tricks on him. It wasn't. Charlie Pace was still there.

His mouth dropped open. "God, Liam…" he said aloud. He knew he should have picked up the phone and called his friend right away, but he couldn't seem to move from his position by the laptop.

Liam was his best friend, so, naturally, Charlie had become like his little brother, too. Charlie had pretty much been all of the three older friend's little brother. He was the youngest in their band, about five years younger than Liam. It just couldn't quite register that he had been the first to go… to die.

No. Charlie wasn't dead. They were going to find the plane. It had probably landed on an island somewhere, and everyone was going to be fine. Charlie would come back, and they would restart DriveSHAFT, just like he wanted.

Finally being able to move his legs, Sinjin retrieved the phone and dialed Liam's number with a shaky hand. It rang and rang and rang, but no one answered. Where would they have gone?

He set the phone down and slipped out the hotel room door, walking dazedly down to the pub on the first floor. He sat at the counter and ordered a beer, watching the TV in the corner with blurry eyes. It was demonstrating how the plane may have crashed, the nose-dive and everything.

Suddenly, the bartender appeared before him.

"Some crash, huh?" he said, drying a mug with an already damp cloth. "Nobody knows what caused it, either. Kinda spooky, really."

Sinjin nodded dumbly, his eyes moving to the drink in his hands.

"Hey buddy, you all right?" Sinjin shrugged in response. "You could talk about it," the man suggested, leaning on the counter across from him, ready to listen.

"It's just…" Sinjin knew it was going to be hard to say it. That would almost make it real. Finally, he sighed and said it. "One of my brothers was on that plane."


	3. Patrick

Paces

Chapter Three

Summary: Patrick deals with the news of the plane crash.

Author's Note: I don't really have an author's note for this one, other than that this is the last chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!

Patrick set the phone down on the table, feeling his eyes fill with tears for the 50th time that day. Sinjin had just called to make sure he knew about Charlie and the plane crash, but he had read about it hours ago. Neither of them had gotten a hold of Liam, and Patrick felt he couldn't even comprehend the grief his friend must have been going through.

Standing up, he swaggered out the front door of his beach house, walking along the shore and feeling the gentle water splashing across his bare feet. He breathed deeply as he reached a large rock, maybe 5 feet tall, which he climbed on top of, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest.

He stared at the waves bobbing up and down on the ocean's surface, some white, and the closer ones pure blue. As he watched, he thought of all the times Charlie and Liam and Sinjin had come to visit him here. He could almost see Charlie standing with the water up to his knees, motioning for Patrick to come and join him.

After a moment, Charlie became blurry, and tired tears fell from Patrick's eyes, wishing that Charlie could actually be there in front of him. He missed him now, more than ever. Knowing that he would never come back, it felt as though someone was strangling him, removing all the air from him lungs and letting him slip slowly to the ground, where no one would see him or help him back up.

_Charlie would have_, he thought. _But Charlie's gone..._ Patrick once again stood on the sand, his mind going almost in slow motion, not understanding – not wanting to believe that someone could disappear that quickly. Charlie hadn't deserved death. Patrick sat down and let his head drop back, hitting the side of the rock. He closed his eyes as more tears fell, creating streaks along his face.

He reopened his eyes and looked at his surroundings. No, this wasn't right. Where was he? He was lying on his back in the middle of a jungle, the sun beating down on him relentlessly. He could hear the ocean in the distance – _If I could only reach it..._ he thought desperately. _Maybe I'd know where I was._

Scrambling to his feet, Patrick jogged in the direction he heard the waves crashing. As he ran, the hard dirt and twigs beneath his feet became soft sand and he raised his head to see all sorts of people rushing around on the beach, a large, broken plane sitting not too far away from him.

Patrick ran into the commotion, hoping to help. He saw a man in a suit doing CPR on a woman who was lying on her back, unmoving. A pregnant woman sat screaming on the sidelines, and everything seemed to be swirling, going almost too fast for Patrick to make all the details out.

Suddenly, everything stopped. Patrick stared ahead, his frightened face quickly transforming into an overjoyed one, despite the terrible situation. Charlie stood before him, surveying the other survivors of the crash as they ran and shrieked. He seemed relatively calm – it had never been Charlie's style to get too worked up about things.

Patrick ran toward him, yelling his name at the top of him lungs. Charlie didn't respond, apparently not hearing his friend above the roar of the still-running engine. Patrick stopped dead in his tracks as a large piece of burning metal crashed down right where Charlie had been standing.

"NO! Charlie!" he screamed, falling to his knees.

Patrick sat bolt upright, his face covered in sweat. After a moment, he remembered his dream. It dawned on him suddenly, unexpectedly, that maybe, just maybe, Charlie had a chance.

Charlie was out there somewhere, holding on by a thread. _Unless that hunk of metal hit him_, the cynical part of his brain reminded him. But that must have just been the dream. Charlie was alive – he could feel it.

But then, even if he was alive, would he have the strength to make it home? At least he wouldn't be on his own. No, Charlie would never be on his own. There would always be someone to take care of him, whether he was stranded on an island, or with the people who loved him at home.

With a feeling of relief, Patrick went back inside. Charlie was going to make it. Charlie would come home. If only the other band members could have the same assurance. As he walked, the waves rushed against the shore, erasing the footmarks left in the sand behind him.

The End

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